ˈstɛfəni
by NaNixon
Summary: "Steph·a·nie: a female given name." To others it might just be a name, but to LazyTown's resident slightly-above-average hero, it has evolved to become something more.
1. Chapter 1: ɪˈpɪfəni

**e·piph·a·ny: ****a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something.**

"Time."

The robotic drone of his airship's AI managed to reach his ears in spite of the pillow clutched around his head.

"One thirty-six a.m."

Sportacus groaned as he sat up, tossing the now-disfigured pillow at his feet in frustration. Like every other night of his entire life, he'd gone to bed at 8:08 on the dot. Unlike every other night however, he was still wide awake. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he looked around. Cards from the Sports Spinner littered the floor, testimonies to his desperate attempts to tire himself out. An empty cup sat forlornly on the bench, the warm milk it formerly contained not having done a thing to induce sleep. Ridiculously, he'd even checked the sports locker for Robbie's Noisy Ball. He was surprised he could remember that far back, and so clearly. It must've been close to ten years ago.

It wasn't his body that was keeping him awake, he finally decided. It was his mind.

Leaning his head back against the coolness of the wall, the still slightly-above-average hero tried to still the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings rocketing around inside his head. For no particular reason, he found himself reliving more of the most tiring days of his life. It was almost as though his currently-overactive brain was trying to get him to sleep by just thinking about it. But no, that wasn't it. Frowning, he saw himself thinking about Stephanie, the little pink-clad girl who had tried everything to wake him up during those few days; to help him when he was at his weakest. She truly was his best friend back then. But now…

He sat up abruptly. But now what? He still thought of her as his best friend, he always had.

He rubbed his temples; the whirlwind had now become a hurricane.

When she was eighteen, she had taken the plunge and gone to America for a year to study at a famous dance school. He had been happy for her, and after their parting embrace had left her with a neatly-wrapped stack of the paper he wrote letters with. She'd gasped with delight, and promised to write to him every week. She had kept to that promise; a little blue plane sailed through the doorway every Sunday morning and he wrote back within the hour. But he had been loath to see her go.

When she was nineteen, she had come back. His hidden fears and worries for her were washed away; she had kept true to herself and had grown into an intelligent, independent young woman. On the night of her return, she had confided in him about a boy she met while at the dance school, a boy who wanted her to go back to be with him. Looking into her eyes, he had seen the confusion and conflict churning inside her and had held her hands between his own comfortingly. He'd told her to follow her heart, like she did when Robbie disguised himself as him. Stephanie had looked down at their clasped hands before smiling her thanks at him. She never went back. But he had been seething with jealousy when he listened to her.

And now she was twenty, and she had opened LazyTown's first dance school twenty-six hours ago. LazyTown had grown with her, and no more than four hundred people were there to witness it. Never one for speeches, she instead opted for a flawless rendition of the classic _Le cygnet_ ballet solo, a captivating spectacle that left everyone awestruck. Watching her proudly, the Mayor had whispered to him about how beautiful he thought Stephanie had become. Managing to tear his eyes from her as she glided across the stage, Sportacus had merely smiled and agreed. But his heart had thumped loudly as he congratulated her warmly afterwards, feeling shy for the first time as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

But now he knew it was because he loved her.

Sportacus blinked as he returned to the present. He had always loved her.

Yawning, Sportacus felt as though a large weight had been lifted from his chest. Settling back under the covers and fluffing up his pillow, he wanted to know how much sleep he could get before the sun rose.

"Time?"

"One thirty-seven a.m."


	2. Chapter 2: dɪˈlɛmə

**di·lem·ma: a** **situation that requires a choice between options that are or seem equally unfavourable or mutually exclusive.**

It may have only been a bit over five hours sleep, but it was the most refreshing one Sportacus could remember having had in the past two years. Whisking his hat and goggles off the bedside table that was still extending itself from the wall, he sprung out of bed with a bit more vigour than normal, dropping to the floor for a quick set of push ups before jumping up into few light stretches. The golden rays of the rising sun shone brightly through the front windows, and Sportacus closed his eyes, basking in the warmth.

For a few minutes, he was blissfully unaware of the reason for the nervous energy racketing around in his body. Then the epiphany of the previous night came rushing back to him and his hands froze where they were, midway through their morning routine of securing his trademark headgear over the tips of his ears. Looking down, he watched his fingers go slack and release their grip, the hat and goggles falling to his feet as he slumped down at the foot of his bed. His ears. An eternal reminder of who—of what—he was. To LazyTown, he was their hero, the man in blue who never failed to help those in need. He would always show up at the perfect time, flipping over walls and fences to land right before them, willing to lend a hand for even the most mundane of tasks.

Nobody ever considered exactly how he knew somebody was in trouble; all it took was a reassuring smile and a gently chiding "be more careful next time!" for the thought to evaporate from their minds. Sportacus would call for the ladder, and he'd disappear back into his airship with a parting wave. Life would go on. But as the years ticked by, life in LazyTown changed. Like Stephanie, the rest of the gang began to realise their dreams and went out into the world. Basketball games were replaced by ever-increasing amounts of homework, soccer matches by outings in the city with new friends. Sportacus was no longer needed; the next generation of children in LazyTown called out to him and he responded duly. He had always known that this was going to happen, but it saddened him nonetheless that the time had finally come.

His one consolidation was Stephanie. While Pixel, Ziggy, Stingy and Trixie had all left to study abroad, she had stayed put, moving out of her uncle's house and into a cosy little cottage on the edge of town. "I'm waiting for an offer" was her cheerful reply to his tentative questioning of her plans for the future. He never understood why she had waited so long before going to America—even with his basic awareness of dance school reputation, he had on more than one occasion recognised the seal of a well-known academy on a letter sticking out from her mailbox during his morning runs. He would watch her from the airship as she collected the mail every morning, her long pink hair falling around her face as she looked down at the invitations dismissively before sifting through the rest of the pile. He swore that she would glance up at him each time, but never knew the reason. He never asked her about it either; their now rare conversations consisted of nothing but pleasantries and the progress of Stephanie's rapidly-expanding dance school.

And now here he was with his head in his hands, snatches of the times he had spent with her over the past few years flitting through his mind. He loved her, it was true, but he was definitely not expecting her to feel the same way. If she knew he was not entirely human…

Sportacus felt a pricking sensation in his eyes and a scant second later, a solitary tear dropped onto the back of his hand. He blinked and stared at it, shocked. He could not remember a time that he had cried, even as a small child. He had always been strong, for others' sake if not for his own. Despite the tears running freely down along his face, he found himself laughing, bittersweet. To think that he was now the one who needing help, and there was no-one to come bounding to his rescue.

A sudden noise punctured the fog of his misery, and Sportacus automatically stretched out a hand to catch the letter tube arcing towards him. Robotically unscrewing the lid of the tube and uncurling the letter that was inside, his puffy eyes managed to read what was on the paper.

_Sportacus,_

_I need to see you._

_- Stephanie_

Sportacus' eyes widened as he frantically re-read the letter before springing into action, quelling all feelings of self-pity as he pushed his hat and goggles onto his head, tucking his ears underneath. Calling for the door and sliding down the ladder in record time, he hit the ground running. He was still the town hero, and did not need the crystal to know that Stephanie needed his help.


	3. Chapter 3: ædˈmɪʃən

**ad·mis·sion:**** a voluntary acknowledgment of truth.**

Sportacus found Stephanie waiting anxiously by the mailbox, clutching her phone tightly to her chest. Even before reaching her, he could see that her hands were shaking. Vaulting over a fence and landing lightly before her, he heard a sharp gasp come from his best friend as she spun to face him.

Sportacus almost wished she hadn't.

It took an agonisingly long second to recognise the once bubbly young woman standing unsteadily in front of him, her usually streaming pink hair twisted into clumps and her dark brown eyes wide in distress. She was near hysterical, and Sportacus impulsively took her into his arms, drawing her shivering frame into the warmth of his body. He felt her relax against him, the tension dissolving from her and her breathing evening out as she laid her head against his chest.

Once he was sure she had calmed down, he stooped down to her eye level and held her at arm's length.

"Please, tell me what's wrong. It's more than I can bear to see you like this."

Stephanie breathed out heavily, her eyes closing in preparation for what she was about to disclose.

"It's Nathan. The boy from…before. He's coming here. For me."

She offered her phone to Sportacus and he took it wordlessly, straightening up as he quickly read the message on the screen.

_Hey Steph! I know this is sudden and all, but I'm coming over to LazyTown (retarded name, huh?) to rescue you from that jerk who's making you stay there. I've already got a plane ticket for ya: it's one-way! Hang tight baby, I'll be with you before you know it._

It was all that Sportacus could do to stop himself crushing the phone between his fingers, feeling cold rage burning in the pit of his stomach. To think that someone could be so caught up in themselves; to be so ruthless, so heartless. Lowering the phone, his anger dissipated as he saw Stephanie looking miserably up at him, looking so scared and vulnerable that he could not help but cup her face between his hands. Using the pads of his thumbs, he smoothed loose strands of hair from her pale cheeks and was surprised but not unhappy when she let out a contented sigh, her warm breath tickling his palms.

Kneeling down with one leg upright, Sportacus gently tugged at Stephanie's elbow so that she perched on his thigh. She looked at him questioningly, and he offered her a small smile.

"Nobody will force you to leave LazyTown if you don't want to, Stephanie. Not Nathan, not me, not anyone else. It was and always will be your choice."

She exhaled, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's not me I'm worried about. It's…it's someone else."

"You know you can tell me anything."

"I know."

There was a pause. Sportacus snuck a peek down at the pink head nestled against him, but Stephanie stayed where she was, staring at the wall in front of her. He sighed. She kept her gaze averted, and did not meet his eyes.

At that moment, Sportacus felt completely and utterly useless. The_ town zero_, as Robbie would have put it. This would not do. He had to show Stephanie how he felt about her. What he had realised the night before.

He hesitated for a second before pulling off his hat and goggles in one swift motion, laying bare his deepest secret to the person he cared about most in the world.

"Stephanie, I know we don't talk much anymore."

Hearing the change in the tone of his voice, she turned her head to look at him, her eyes widening as she saw the tips of his ears for the first time.

"I know that we're not as close as we used to be."

Her expression was unreadable.

"But believe me when I say that I'd do anything for you. To keep you safe. To keep you happy."

She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

"You've been a part of my life for over ten years, and over that time I've seen you grow into an independent, intelligent young woman. A beautiful young woman."

He saw her eyes dart downwards as his crystal began to pulse faintly, a slight hum reverberating from within it.

"Nathan is not coming here alone, and I'm going to show them all how much you mean to me. How much I love you."

Words finally formed in Stephanie's mouth.

"I—"

A drawling voice behind Sportacus cut her off mid-sentence.

"So Steph, this is the guy I've heard _so_ much about."


	4. Chapter 4: ˈsækrəˌfaɪs

**sac·ri·fice****:**** forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim.**

Sportacus felt Stephanie stiffen in his arms, and hugged her firmly before gently sliding the trembling woman off his lap and setting her on her feet. Standing up, he turned to see Nathan watching them with a smirk on his face, flanked on either side by four men more suited for standing next to nightclub doors than by the wiry boy's side. _Muscle-headed lubbers_, Robbie's voice snickered inside his head. Sizing them up briefly, Sportacus couldn't help but agree. Their leather jackets did little to hide the muscles rippling underneath, and even from this distance he could see them tense in anticipation of what was to come.

He swallowed, but stepped forward resolutely, effectively forming a solid wall between Nathan's crew and the person they had travelled so far for to claim. This was no trivial bout between the town hero and the self-proclaimed villain, something that always ended in a round of laughter and the occasional bruised ego. This was something that would end with more than broken bones for the one who yielded, and they all knew it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephanie peeking fearfully around his shoulder and felt the anger he had quelled minutes ago flare up to a terrifying new level. Sportacus opened his mouth to speak, and the voice that emanated from his lips was laced with a malice he didn't know he possessed.

"Leave. Her. Alone."

If Nathan was having any second thoughts, he did a commendable job of hiding it. One of his cohorts, on the other hand, was not so subtle in his thinking process. He blinked profusely and took a visible step backwards, earning cold glares from his friends around him and a rough shove back into his original place. Sportacus' eyes never left Nathan's face. Seemingly unfazed, the young man jutted his chin towards Stephanie's direction, his arms crossed.

"What's so special about her anyway?"

"You tell me."

Nathan appraised him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Fine. Is it because of me?"

Sportacus frowned.

"What?"

"I spoke in English, didn't I? I _said_, is it because of me?"

The anger inside him began to ebb as confusion seeped into his mind.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You only want Stephanie because _I _went after her first. You're jealous, old timer. You've locked her up in this dump for her whole life, and it's about time someone came to cut off her chains and let her go free."

Sportacus stood rooted to the spot, stunned. The jeers of Nathan's crew following his speech echoed dully in his ears, hearing only his heartbeat thumping in his head. Was it really true? Had he been so blind to his own selfishness, subconsciously imposing himself on her even as he had urged her forward? He spun to face Stephanie, but found himself unable to speak. Staring into her eyes, he willed himself to show her what he felt but could not put into words: that he had never wanted to hold her back. That he was only human. That he thought he had loved her.

As she looked back at him, Sportacus knew she understood. She had always read him like a book, every now and again slipping in a page of her own or adding an extra line with her flowery touch. She completed him, Sportacus realised. And in that instant, he knew that he was still completely in love with her. A small smile played across Stephanie's lips as she leant towards him, her soft voice reaching his ears alone.

"I know."

Then, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself into his chest, she kissed him.

All the sports candy in the world compressed into one mouthful would only have given a fraction of the energy that Sportacus felt coursing through him at that moment. The same applied for sugar meltdowns, too. He felt himself shutting down in Stephanie's arms, only his hands working as they caressed the small of her back, feeling the silken strands of her hair pass through his fingers. He was completely oblivious to the open-mouthed group standing dumbstruck behind him, and he didn't care. Stephanie was his and he was hers, and God help anyone who wanted to keep them apart.

Nevertheless, it had been foolish to keep his eyes from Nathan for so long, to be deaf to the shouts of Nathan's crew as he drew a knife from under his jacket, to push Stephanie away as the knife glinted in the bright afternoon sun on its path towards him. Maybe not the last part so much, but the ice-cold pain that shot through him as the blade sunk into his abdomen proved to be a reminder that love can indeed, be blind.


	5. Chapter 5: frɛnd

**friend: ****a ****person ****attached ****to ****another ****by ****feelings ****of ****affection ****or personal ****regard.**

Sportacus dreamt. He was in his airship, or what was left of it. Its walls were crumbling, the aged paint drifting in flakes onto the floor, black with mould and soot. Outside was nothing, an endless void that enveloped the mockery of his home. It bled in through the broken ribs of his ship like hellish sun rays, devouring what little light there was inside the cabin and encroaching across the broken floorboards. Somewhere in the darkness, Sportacus could hear a woman weeping, her strangled sobs wrenching his heart. She was in the airship, he knew it. He just had to get out of the bed, to fight the unseen forces holding him down, to fight to save her…

A sickly smell suddenly invaded Sportacus' senses and he awoke, spluttering and disoriented. His vision was blurred, and as he struggled to focus his eyes he saw nothing but a bright shade of purple. He became aware that he was lying on his back, with his wrists and ankles tightly bound and a dull pain throbbing in his abdomen. A triumphant voice then decided to shatter his over-sensitive hearing.

"Well what do you know, it actually worked!"

As his ears stopped ringing, Sportacus saw the offending object being whisked away: a piece of cake. It was replaced with a face that Sportacus recognised in an instant, despite being barely conscious. Cold horror filled him.

"Robbie."

Robbie's face retreated as he stood up, chuckling darkly.

"Probably not the face you wanted to wake up to, but I'm afraid you'll have to make do with my rugged good looks for now."

Sportacus' eyes snapped open.

"Stephanie! _Where is Stephanie?_"

He tugged at his bonds frantically, oblivious to the white-hot pain that flared through his body in protest. Robbie looked on with his eyebrows raised.

"I can understand that you're a little restless, but it's a proven fact that stitches work better when you don't thrash around like a fish in a net. Your ridiculous gasping isn't helping the image."

Sportacus stopped writhing and stared at Robbie, dumbstruck.

"St-stitches?"

"Yes, stitches." Robbie replied, wheeling his fluffy orange chair over to Sportacus and sinking into it gratefully. "The wonderful synthetic threads that are currently preventing your intestines from bursting out through the sizeable incision in your skin."

True enough, when Sportacus peered down the length of his body, he could see a neat pattern of stitches over the cut. The wound had been thoroughly cleaned, and nothing more than a thin red line remained.

"You…you helped me?"

Robbie reached across Sportacus' feet and picked up the plate of cake where he had left it, deftly tugging away the straps tying Sportacus down.

"Let's not get into the gory details now, shall we? Oh, and normally I'd attempt even a half-hearted apology for strapping people to tables, but when you're trying to sew up a gushing knife wound on a bucking blue elf, I can't help but make an exception. Anyway, it was a good opportunity to try out my new sealing foam. Lord knows how many cuts I get down here from executing my genius brain's latest design."

"Th-thank you."

"Don't mention it. Literally."

Managing a small smile, Sportacus sat up shakily, wincing slightly. He watched silently as his so-called enemy procured a spoon from seemingly out of nowhere, gather a generous dollop of cream from the top of the cake and shovel it messily into his mouth with a contented hum. Managing to swallow most of it, Robbie tossed the plate (and the cake) away nonchalantly as he strode over to his periscope.

"Where is Stephanie? Is she okay? What happened?"

Robbie sighed melodramatically as he swivelled the periscope, searching for something outside.

"Do all besotted stabbing victims ask this many questions? Your _girlfriend_ went to fetch a new spandex suit for you from your floating balloon home, and most probably is skipping merrily back here. As far as I know, she does not, has not and will not a have knife in her gut. Robbie Rotten happened."

Sportacus eased his legs off the table and stood up slowly.

"Robbie, truly, thank y—"

"Unless you would like me to shove this sealant in your mouth and empty its contents down your throat, I'd consider it wise not to finish that sentence."

Robbie squinted into the eyepiece.

"And speak of the devil, here she comes. I may have been exaggerating slightly on the 'skipping merrily' part, but I really needed her to get out of my hair before she made us both the envy of Catholics in a confessional booth."

The self-proclaimed town villain offered his arm to Sportacus with a barely concealed grimace.

"Anyway, shall we give her a hero's welcome?"


	6. Chapter 6: ˈpɛnəns

**pen·ance: ****a feeling of regret for one's wrongdoings.**

Knowing full well that Robbie was slightly less enthusiastic about physical contact than the average person, Sportacus waved him away with a muttered thanks (which resulted in another threat from Robbie) and swung his legs off the table. Making his way gingerly across the room, his sharp hearing could already pick up the tell-tale rumblings of someone sliding down the chute. He could only pray that he looked better than he felt; a despairing Stephanie was something that should only be seen once, and never again.

His prayer fell on deaf ears. As Stephanie abruptly came into view, a spare set of his outfit clutched tightly between her fingers, he saw her look anxiously from his bare stomach to his face, not meeting his gaze. Her bottom lip quivered, and unshed tears began to well up in her eyes as she stared at the floor, strands of lank hair plastered to her face.

He had never seen such an agonising sight in his life.

Sportacus never recalled how or when he finally made it to her side; the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her small frame in his arms, his murmurs of sweet nothings into her ear as she cried freely into his chest, his fingers stroking the back of her head comfortingly as hers curled at his shoulders. He held her firmly against him as she let out all the emotion and fear that had been bottled up inside her for the past days, the past months, the past years. Sportacus felt his own vision begin to blur as snatches of his life with her came rushing towards him, one after another, until the memories began to blend into a kaleidoscope of blue and pink.

Finally, Stephanie's sobs settled into quiet sniffles and she raised her eyes to meet his. Even in this state, with her pale cheeks streaked with tears, her long hair matted to her forehead and her eyes puffy and red-rimmed, she still looked completely and utterly beautiful.

"I'm sorry."

They blinked at each other in surprise, sea blue against malt brown. Somewhere behind Sportacus, Robbie groaned loudly.

"Good Lord, both of you at the same time? Somebody shoot me, and make it quick."

Finding himself beginning to grin stupidly, Sportacus turned to face the town villain with Stephanie still snug in his arms, the two lovers giving Robbie a reproving look.

"I'm sor—", Stephanie started before cutting herself off, the corner of her mouth turning upward in amusement. "I bet you've heard more apologies today than you have in a whole year."

She received a raised eyebrow in response.

"Make that a lifetime and a day, Pinky."

Standing up from his trademark armchair and stretching languidly, Robbie tossed a gauze pad and a roll of bandages to Stephanie and gestured at Sportacus dismissively. "Be a dear and patch up your should-have-asked-him-out-years-ago-to-be-your-boyfriend boyfriend, will you? I need to go and get some more cake."

"Sure."

Sportacus watched as the woman he loved knelt down in front of him, deftly peeling the gauze pad from its packaging and applying it gently to his abdomen, her eyebrows knitted in concentration. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her efforts.

"It's okay Stephanie, I'm not quite as fragile as I look."

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at her lap.

"It's not that. I—I just don't want to hurt you again."

"Hey."

Squatting down with his knees on either side of her, Sportacus circled his arms around her waist and clasped his hands behind her back, ignoring the slight pain that shot through him. He made sure she was looking at him before he continued.

"What happened was not your fault. Call it fate, call it bad luck, call it me being blind." He smiled slightly. "But never, _ever_, blame yourself for what happened today. I'm alive now, more alive than I've ever been. And it's all thanks to you."

He kissed her on the forehead tenderly.

"I love you, Stephanie."

Stephanie's eyes filled with tears again, but this time the sight warmed Sportacus to his very core.

"I love you too, Sportacus."

She leant towards him with her hands still folded in her lap and brushed his lips with hers, leaving him tingling all over. It was a lingering kiss, with less energy than their first but with no less passion. Only a few inches from Stephanie's face, Sportacus could see his eyes mirrored in hers, and willed them to show her again all the love that he felt for her. She smiled at him; he shouldn't have bothered.

Meanwhile, Robbie's attempts to pry their attention from one another were going largely unnoticed from his vantage point near the periscope. Rolling his eyes, he strode over to his over-sized alarm clock and set to go off a few seconds later.

_Riiing—riiing—riiing!_

Startled, Sportacus released his hold on Stephanie and looked at Robbie incredulously. For her part, Stephanie pouted at the town villain with her eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm _sorry_, Robbie?"

He looked at them impatiently.

"Sorry to cut short your…celebrations…but I do believe that your dear uncle is looking for you. Better come up with an ingenuous plan to break your newly-found puppy love to him."

Stephanie clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Uncle Milford! He must be so worried! Are you alright to move, Sportacus?"

Sportacus nodded and got to his feet valiantly, helping Stephanie up beside him.

"Don't worry Robbie, he will understand."

Quickly peeling off his blood-stained shirt and donning the spare, Sportacus ushered Stephanie up into the tube. His elven ears couldn't help but pick up Robbie's remark to his retreating back.

"It's not him I'd be worried about."


	7. Chapter 7: rkôl

**re·call****: ****to remember; recollect.**

Climbing deftly up the ladder with only a slight twinge in his side, Sportacus could feel fresh air from outside sinking gently down into the chute. It was laced with an intoxicating flowery scent that could only belong to the woman ascending above him, and Sportacus tried his best not to inhale it too deeply. A meltdown halfway up a ladder, he surmised, would probably not be very helpful to his recovery. Not to mention the resulting heart attack for a certain lair's resident from his unexpected return.

Sportacus smiled at the thought. A day ago, if someone had come up to him and said that Robbie would save his life, he would've laughed and told them that it would be a glorious day indeed. And now the day _had_ come, and Sportacus could sum up what he felt about his and Robbie's relationship over the years in one word: regret. He regretted all the things he had done, or rather, the things he _hadn't_ done, for Robbie. He remembered clearly all the times he had thwarted another one of Robbie's plans, only to laugh with the rest of the kids as Robbie slinked off to his lair in defeat. Had he ever followed him, as difficult as the feat may have seemed, to talk to him, to talk _with_ him; to understand him?

No, he hadn't.

Sportacus sighed inwardly. The one person who truly needed a hero, and Sportacus had failed to be there for him.

But now he would be. He and Stephanie owed Robbie their lives and their happiness. Without Robbie's help, he would either be dead, or Stephanie would be taken away, or both. Sportacus shuddered at the thought, just as another one struck him.

"Stephanie?" he asked tentatively, his voice echoing throughout the chute.

"Yes, Sportacus?"

"What…what actually happened?"

He couldn't elaborate, but Stephanie knew what he wanted to say, as usual. She stopped briefly on the ladder before she replied.

"I'll tell you when we're outside."

Finally reaching the top, Sportacus reached past Stephanie to help her lift the lid, which was surprisingly heavy.

"How on earth," Stephanie grunted, "does Robbie put up with this thing? Isn't he supposed to be lazy?"

Sportacus chuckled as he heaved the lid open.

"He actually _does_ have some muscle, believe it or not. You can see it tucked away under his sleeves."

"Well, I can't say that I've noticed."

Seeing Stephanie disappear safely over the lip of the chute, Sportacus vaulted over to join her on the pavement, coming up behind her and gently hugging his lover around the waist.

"I'll take that as a good sign."

She relaxed into him, leaning her head back into the crook of his shoulder and sighing happily.

"Yes, yes you should."

They stayed like that for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's company. Reluctantly, Sportacus let go of her, returning her look of disappointment. Moving to her side, he threaded his fingers between her own.

"We should hurry to the town hall. Your uncle must be very worried by now."

Stephanie nodded, falling into step beside him on their way past the billboard. Then, pressing his hand to seemingly remind herself that he was still with her, she took a deep breath to relive his lost time.

"Well, after you fell unconscious, Nathan turned around. He just stared at me. I'd never seen someone look so lost…so alone. His friends had backed away from him. Robbie told me later that they'd been trying to tell us about the knife, but…"

Sportacus squeezed her hand comfortingly, and she looked up at him in gratefulness before continuing.

"I watched his eyes change. 'Angry' or 'furious' wouldn't even begin to describe what he looked like. I still don't know whether it was because of you, me, or him."

Stephanie paused, passing her free hand across her face. Sportacus remained silent, but drew her into his side reassuringly. He knew it would be best for her to talk about it now, as painful as it seemed.

"He looked back down at you, and raised the knife. One of his friends shouted at me to run, but I couldn't run. I _wouldn't_ run…not while you were still lying there, helpless. So I tackled him."

At this, Sportacus broke his silence. He gripped her by the elbows, spinning to face her with a look of shock plastered on his face.

"You did _what?_"

The woman in his arms managed to shrug, despite her arms being pinned to her sides.

"I love you." Stephanie said simply. "Besides," she added, her eyes twinkling, "I'd only just gotten you. You weren't getting away that easily."

Noticing her physical predicament, Sportacus let go of her and wrapped her in a fierce hug. She returned the embrace, kissing the corner of his jaw lightly.

"Anyway," Stephanie continued, as they began to cross the courtyard to the town hall. "That's when Robbie appeared. He vaulted over a wall and punched Nathan in the wrist, kicking the knife away when he dropped it. Then he grabbed him with one hand, flipped him over and elbowed him in the back of the neck, knocking him out cold. It was over so quickly."

She shook her head, apparently still in disbelief.

"He saved you."

"No, Stephanie," Sportacus corrected gently. "He saved _us_. Without him, I don't know where we'd be."

Stephanie smiled up at him.

"Well, right now there's no other place _I'd_ rather be."

They reached the front door to the hall and Sportacus turned towards her again, taking her hands between his own for the third time of his life. He could hear the Mayor's voice behind the door, and another man's. It sounded familiar, and stirred long-forgotten memories from the depths of his childhood.

"Before we go inside, I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I will be with you."

"There's always a way, Sportacus."

"Always."

He knocked twice and opened the door, holding Stephanie's hand tightly. Before him, the Mayor was at his desk, engaged in a deep conversation with a solidly-built man whose back was facing towards the door. Milford didn't look happy.

Hearing the door open, the man turned to face them, his eyes flicking downwards to where Sportacus and Stephanie's hands were clasped.

Sportacus drew his breath sharply.


	8. Chapter 8a: CHois

**choice: an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.**

"Zero."

The man acknowledged Sportacus sombrely, placing his left hand over his breast.

"Number Ten."

Returning the salute, Sportacus focused his gaze on the floor between them and waited for Zero to continue. He shot Stephanie a small smile, gently tugging his hand from hers and clasping both of his behind his back in respect for the man in front of them. It had become an automated response for Sportacus during the first half-century of his childhood at the Academy, and it surprised him how easily he had slid back into the routine.

However, the broad-chested man before him remained silent. The discipline that had been ingrained into Sportacus began to slip as the seconds ticked by, and he found himself raising his eyes tentatively to see what was going on.

What he saw shocked him.

Zero had _his_ eyes on the floor, and had his hands clasped in front of him. His face, Sportacus noticed, was impassive.

It was a gesture of separation. Of rejection.

He was being exiled.

"Mentor?" Sportacus breathed.

It was only when the grey eyes of Sportacus' childhood mentor flickered upwards that Sportacus saw the anguish that was churning in him. The _hulduf__ólk_ were not a folk that hid their emotions well, and the grief that radiated from Zero shook him to his very core.

"I am sorry, Number Ten."

Caught in the middle and glancing between Sportacus and the newcomer with increasing worry, Stephanie couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Sportacus? What's going on?"

"I—I don't know."

Zero's face shifted imperceptibly. It seemed to soften.

"You do not understand why I am here, Number Ten?"

"No...no I don't."

A pause.

"Do you understand why _you_ are here?

Sportacus' voice was hesitant and unsure.

"Because a little girl sent me a letter."

Stephanie stepped closer and warmed his chilled fingers between her own. Zero didn't look this time, and his piercing grey eyes remained on Sportacus'.

"No, Number Ten. You are here because you answered the challenge of a_dökkálfar_. And a _dökkálfar's_ challenge must be answered with your entire being."

Sportacus' blood ran cold at his words.

"Robbie…Robbie is a dark-elf? How did I not know? Why did he never tell me?"

His mentor regarded him sadly.

"I speak the truth. You are strong, Number Ten. Perhaps the strongest of us all. It may have been that strength that blinded you from the full weight of what you accepted."

Zero paused.

"But that strength has also been your curse. The heart of a _hulduf__ólk _cannot be torn between love and duty, for one cannot fulfil both. You have been able to prolong that choice thus far, but I fear that the time to decide is upon you. As for why the _dökkálfar _did not tell you, I do not know. All that I know is that they are not to be trusted, and that the one you call Robbie Rotten is one of the most powerful in this region."

He sighed, closing his eyes in what Sportacus could only describe as defeat.

"It is expected of me to now demand your choice, but I am not without heart. Go now with your beloved, and come back to me with an answer before nightfall. I will be waiting here."

As though snapped out of a trance, Sportacus spun and hugged the shell-shocked Stephanie into his chest in an attempt to anchor themselves to something comforting.

"Sportacus?" Stephanie's small voice drifted out from somewhere within his arms.

"Come with me. I'll tell you everything."


	9. Chapter 8b: CHois

Leaving the mayor's office, Sportacus stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air and began to walk aimlessly across the courtyard. His ears registered the faint click as Stephanie closed the door behind them, hearing her soft footfalls on the asphalt as she struggled to catch up with him. He forced himself to slow down. Moving helped him think, but more so did a Stephanie who wasn't gasping for breath while trying to keep his pace. With the pink-clad woman now in step beside him, he continued walking along the streets of the town, letting his feet decide their path while he thought of what to say. And the decision that he had to make.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Sportacus looked up to see where his route had taken them. He was surprised to find himself under the shadow of the billboard. Well, slightly surprised. He chuckled sardonically, and Stephanie glanced sideways at him curiously. She hadn't uttered a word since they had left the office, and Sportacus was grateful to her for understanding. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to deserve her, or what she saw in him. Loving and supporting her from afar was one thing, but having that hidden love returned was something else entirely. The words "inferiority complex" flickered briefly through his mind, but he paid them no heed. He didn't deserve her; it was the truth. But she had decided that he was what she wanted, and so Sportacus would do everything in his power to hold onto her and keep her happy.

With that realisation, Sportacus turned to her, motioning for her to join him as he sat down. Twisting around so that his back was pressed against the cool wood of the billboard, he reached across and drew Stephanie into his side. She snuggled into him, murmuring contentedly as she made herself comfortable. Once she was settled, Sportacus took a few moments to gather his thoughts. Then a dilemma struck him.

"Stephanie," he ventured.

"Yes, Sportacus?"

"Where do I start?"

She straightened up to look at him incredulously.

"You're asking _me_ this?

Sportacus looked back at her, keeping his expression open. Stephanie considered him closely before dropping her head back onto his shoulder, a small smile playing across her lips.

"I don't know. Start at the beginning."

"Hm. Alright then."

He stretched out his long legs in preparation.

"Strictly speaking, I am a 'light elf' of the _hulduf__ólk_: it translates roughly into "hidden people" in English. I was born into what you would call a farming family. My mother and father were good, loving parents, and I was their only child. We were happy. Early every morning, my mother would take me out to the fields to play, while my father tended to the animals. But it was not just my father who did the work; _hulduf__ólk _boys are strong and hardy at a young age. I was happy to do it, and never complained."

Sportacus sighed.

"Shortly after my twelfth birthday, I called to the assembly that took place every two centuries with the other twelve-year-old boys of the clan; we numbered over three hundred. Over the next forty days, the clan elders pushed us to our physical limits. I would liken the experience to what you call 'boot camp', but I think that is a gross understatement."

Stephanie had been listening silently, but her head snapped up at the last part. "Boot camp? You mean you became…?"

Sportacus shook his head.

"No, not yet. But after the forty days, we were given a day of rest. And the next morning, the elders declared me as the clan's representative."

She nodded, understanding.

"For the Academy."

"Yes. For the Academy. Eleven others would join me there, in the centre of Iceland."

He paused.

"We were there for the next forty years. Learning. Forgetting. We became known as the Twelve, just like all the others before us. Zero became our mentor. And when our training was complete, we were given our crystals and airships and were sent across the country to towns like this one. Number Nine was stationed here."

"Number Nine!" Stephanie gasped. "My uncle knew him years ago, didn't he?"

Sportacus appraised her, surprised that she could remember that far back.

"Yes, he did. But your uncle never knew what became of him, and neither did I. I could not detect the presence of his crystal anymore. But that's another story altogether."

Settling back against the billboard, Sportacus continued.

"The mission of the Twelve is simple. Help the humans, and be a blessing to them. I was assigned to healthy living. The others were given other roles, such as medicinal aid. How we carried out our roles were up to us."

"You went with sports, obviously."

"I did. It was the best way to promote health in Heimaey, the town I was sent to. But a year later, in 1973, I had to leave."

He saw Stephanie looking at him with concern, and realised that his voice had become almost a whisper. He stroked her cheek tenderly, and managed a sad smile.

"A mountain you would know as Eldfell erupted, and destroyed much of the town. Only," Sportacus said sombrely, using his fingers as quotation marks for the word, "one person died from the eruption: a looter who stayed behind and became trapped in a pharmacy. I was far away with the evacuees when my crystal alerted me, but by then, it was too late. I tried, but…"

Sportacus felt Stephanie place her hand gently over his heart, and drew comfort from its warmth.

"I left Heimaey, and spent the next year up in my airship, going down occasionally to help other small towns. I took the crystal out of my vest, and started to introduce myself as Sportacus. I tried to leave Number Ten behind."

"Oh, Sportacus," Stephanie whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "It wasn't your fault. You did your best. You've always done your best."

He squeezed her gently in silent thanks, and continued on.

"But without the crystal, many times I found myself arriving too late to save someone. Not from volcanic eruptions, but from simpler things. Slippery floors, step ladders, even banana peels. I put the crystal back in my vest. I came to realise that the crystal was part of who I was as a slightly-above-average hero. It gave me power. It gave me strength."

Sportacus put his hand on Stephanie's cheek again, gently tilting her face upwards towards his.

"Zero said that I would have to choose between duty and love. Between a life as a Number and a life with you. But I cannot see a life worth living without you by my side."

He saw the comprehension dawn on her face as she realised the underlying implications of that choice.

"But if you choose me, your crystal will turn off. And one of your friends will have to face Robbie."

"Yes. And I do not know what will happen."

Bright brown eyes suddenly arrested his vision, and he almost backed away from the intensity of her gaze.

"But Robbie's not a bad guy! I know it; you know it! We have to talk to him, and figure something out."

In a matter of seconds, Sportacus found himself being pulled towards Robbie's lair entrance after being hauled to his feet by his surprisingly strong lover. She was surprisingly loud, too, for someone of her small stature.

"_Robbie!_" she yelled down the chute, her voice thundering off the metal walls. "_We need to talk!_"

Snoring happily in his trademark rocking chair, Robbie swore he could feel his hair being ripped off as the soundwaves tore across the room. Picking himself off the floor and clutching his ringing head, Robbie had one coherent thought.

_What in the blazes is up her chimney?_


End file.
